“Do you think that could be connected with the catastrophe that some scientists say hit Earth around twelve thousand years back . . . whatever it was?” Kieran asked.
Trevany looked surprised, as if he hadn’t expected such a question. “Nothing’s proved yet. But what do I think?” He bunched his mouth and nodded. “If I had to bet, I’d say they were both part of the same thing.”
“So, what about the advanced culture that existed before then?” Kieran asked.
“The Technolithic.”
“Yes. Where do you think it originated?” Besides the form that the cataclysm had taken and exactly when it had happened, that was another aspect that different schools of opinion clashed and debated over. Some accepted this early culture as having been native to Earth; others, less inhibited and more iconoclastic, believed that it had come from elsewhere.
“I’d say the jury is still out on that one,” Trevany said. “But you never know. Things that turn up in places like this, for instance, could throw more light on it.” Kieran got the feeling that the geologist could have said more. Suddenly, he was curious to know what the expedition to the Tharsis region was hoping to achieve and what was going on at the base camp that Trevany had mentioned. But Trevany halted things there with a shrug. “Anyway, that’s not what you came here to talk about. Do you want to come inside, out of the noise? Maybe you could use a cup of coffee or something?”
“Sounds good.”
They began walking toward the row of offices. “So what kind of a problem has Leo been having?” Trevany asked. “Sarda, you said his name was over the phone, right?”
“That’s right. How much did he tell you about what he does?”
“Not a lot. It sounded like some kind of biological research.”
They came into the office. There was an empty desk, a table strewn with folders, drawings, and papers. Maps and charts filled the walls between shelves full of oddments and boxes. A girl working at a screen shifted her eyes to nod at them perfunctorily. Trevany led Kieran across to a side table with a coffee maker, fixings, and some snack offerings.
“He’s with a sunsider outfit,” Kieran said as Trevany poured two cups. “They’re into a line of neurological work—figuring out how memory, behavior, and things like that are coded. It involves probing around in the brain with fields and imagers, seeing what you can extract and change.” Not quite accurate, but it sounded like the kind of thing a doctor would be into. Trevany nodded in the way of someone who had heard about such things but couldn’t contribute much, and offered one of the cups. Kieran took it, declining cream or sweetener. “It seems that some of Sarda’s memories have been affected. We’re trying to map the damage and see what can be done to fix it.”
“What a strange situation to be in,” Trevany commented.
“It’s a strange kind of work,” Kieran said.
“Very well. So how can I help?”
“By answering a few questions, if you can. They may sound odd, but we have our reasons for asking them.”
“Okay.”
Kieran paused, indicating with a movement of his eyes the girl working at the screen. Trevany nodded that he understood and led the way into a smaller, empty office at the end, closing the door.
“You said you met Sarda there before?” Kieran resumed.
“Yes, in the bar at the Oasis, right outside the restaurant. I’d seen them at breakfast too, although we hadn’t spoken then.”
” `Them’? You mean him and this woman he was with? You said her name was Elaine.”
“Elaine, right. We were at close tables in the bar one evening. I recognized them as guests too, and started talking. You know how it is—new here; it’s natural to want to get to know people.”
“Sure. How did they seem? Sociable? Friendly enough?”
“He did—as much as you’d expect. But the woman seemed reluctant to talk. Kept drawing him away. That was why I was surprised when he acted the way he did in the restaurant.”
“Hmm.” Kieran pondered on the information. “Did they say what they were doing there?” he asked finally.